


Can I Be Your Boyfriend (Can I)

by unchartedstars



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Confused pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Overuse of the word 'Dude', neither does mingi, side woosan, very brief suggestive content, yeosang has no idea what he's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 15:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18574585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unchartedstars/pseuds/unchartedstars
Summary: The one where Yeosang isn't the genius he thinks he is, Mingi is perpetually tired, and the entire world seems to be aware of how in love they are (meaning everyone except, you know, Yeosang and Mingi).





	Can I Be Your Boyfriend (Can I)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, I've been working on this for a while, because the world needs more minsang and I love writing dumb gays. I hope it's coherent and that you enjoy this mess of a fic xx
> 
> title from Blooming Day by EXO-CBX

Yeosang sees the flyer on his way back from his history lecture. White bubble-font letters shout at him from their place on bright pink paper, taped crooked and at eye-level on a street light.

_VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL!!_  
Free Chocolate and Other Prizes!  
6-8 PM in the Music Building  
♡ Be There or Be Lonely ♡ 

Now, Yeosang wouldn’t necessarily call himself a romantic. He may or may not have gotten drunk last February at a nearby bar and went off on a tangent about the commercialization of Valentine’s Day to a table of unsuspecting college students. (The only reason he even knows he did such a thing despite being trashed beyond comprehension is that Wooyoung likes to bring up how he rescued Yeosang from further embarrassment anytime he needs a favor.)

So, Yeosang doesn’t really like Valentine’s Day. But he _does_ like free things and chocolate, especially if he can enjoy both at the same time. Following this logic, he does what any bored (broke) college student would do. 

“Mingi, drop that textbook and the remainder of your brain cells because we have plans tonight.” Yeosang ignores the look Mingi gives him as he swings open the door to their apartment with flare (definitely not overdramatic like _some_ people might insinuate) and stands in the entrance with his hands on his hips. 

“Uh,” Mingi starts, eyebrow raised and highlighter twirling between slender fingers, “pretty sure I didn’t agree to anything other than reading the fuck out of my notes for my exam next week.” 

Yeosang doesn’t respond, just slips off his shoes and tosses his bag next to the couch where Mingi is curled up with his textbook. Mingi’s laptop is perched on the empty cushion next to him, and a defeated whine is pulled from his throat when Yeosang slams it closed and steals its spot. 

Poking Mingi’s thigh with his foot, Yeosang informs, “The student events board or whatever is throwing a Valentine’s Day thing in the music building and I think we should go.”

Judging by his furrowed brow and pursed mouth, Yeosang deduces that Mingi is stuck on the _I think we should go_ part. Yeosang doesn’t blame him; pulling Yeosang’s teeth out one by one would probably end better than any of Mingi’s usual attempts to drag him out of their apartment. Mingi doesn’t voice any of this, though, probably waiting for the catch. 

Folding his hands in his lap, Yeosang clarifies, “Alright so, there’s free chocolate-”

“Say no more,” Mingi interjects as he hops up from the couch, “you had me at ‘free.’”

There’s a brief moment where Yeosang considers whining about how _you care more about free stuff than spending time with your best friend (insert frowny face here)_ but he doesn’t want Mingi to go back to studying just to spite him, so he stands up and pulls the textbook out of Mingi’s hands. After dropping it onto the coffee table, he jerks his thumb in the direction of the door and declares, “let’s eat our weight in chocolate, then!” 

Once they both have their shoes on, Mingi grins and wraps an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders (which might be Yeosang’s favorite thing ever, a concept anyone with an 800-foot-tall and very _warm_ best friend would understand). With that, they exit their apartment and begin their journey to what will probably be a destination full of hellfire and paper hearts.

**\----**

Rule Number One in the _Big Book of Yeosang’s Morals_ : Anything for Free Chocolate.

It’s not a _reasonable_ or _good_ rule, per say, but it’s what Yeosang will use to justify his following actions: 

“Hey, San! What are you doing here?” Yeosang and Mingi are finally at the entrance to the music building after having trekked across campus with nary a scarf nor pair of gloves in sight (“Told you we should’ve bundled up-” “Mingi, I would advise you to stop complaining or I’m gonna crawl into your coat for warmth”). 

San beams at them from where he’s leaning against one of the double doors that’s propped open. A pink streamer borders its frame, and Yeosang is pretty sure he hears _Heart Shaker_ blaring from somewhere within the depths of the building. It’s following this observation that Yeosang realizes San is wearing a silky black shirt as well as a heart-patterned bow tie, both of which he probably (definitely) thrifted semi-recently. 

He feels Mingi prop an arm on his shoulder as San responds, “Yeosangie, my love! Did you forget I’m part of the events board? No, scratch that question, you definitely did. More importantly, what are _you_ doing here?” A look of horror flashes across San’s face, “Oh god, are you protesting? Are you protesting Valentine’s Day like you said you were going to last week? Bud, they’re paying me minimum wage to act as an usher right now, please-”

“San! Breathe!” Yeosang resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose like a stressed father that’s three days into a family vacation, and says, “First, if I was planning to protest I would bring more than just Mingi. Second, I heard there was free chocolate. So, we’re just gonna swing through and then head out.” 

The pitying look San gives him isn’t very promising. What’s even less promising is his response to Yeosang’s genius plan: “I’m sorry, beloved, but this is a couples only event. Seonghwa is probably somewhere inside mid-aneurism over the way Wooyoung arranged the seating area, so I’d rather not subject myself to his wrath.” 

Yeosang blinks at him. Looks up at Mingi and then back at San. Blinks some more. 

“Uh, it didn’t say that on the flyer I saw?” Yeosang is not above admitting he might cry if he doesn’t get the chocolate that said flyer promised him. 

And, oh, now San is pushing a bright pink paper against his chest, and there’s the flyer except-

_Student Events Board Presents:_

_**COUPLES NIGHT** _

_VALENTINE’S DAY SPECIAL!!_  
Free Chocolate and Other Prizes!  
6-8 PM in the Music Building  
♡ Be There or Be Lonely ♡ 

Ah. Well.

A tragic scene obstructs Yeosang’s vision, a glimpse into the future. He sees himself curled into a fetal position behind their couch, chocolate-less and filled with devastation as Mingi hunches over the kitchen table and writes a heartfelt eulogy: In Loving Memory of Kang Yeosang; all he wanted was some Goddamn Chocolate, but he was too emotionally constipated to meet the criteria of Satan’s Heart Holiday. 

“Yeo? You good?” Mingi is looking at him with mild concern, his mind probably mirroring Yeosang’s own premonition and expecting the worst. 

Yeosang’s eyes widen, a light bulb flickering over his head until it suddenly gleams and bathes the three of them in the metaphorical light of Yeosang’s absolute genius. 

With a playful roll of his eyes, Yeosang laughs, “Well, good thing I have a boyfriend that can get me in there so we can uh, very _lovingly_ enjoy the efforts of the student events board and probably the copious amount of chocolate laying around.” 

He thinks he feels Mingi freeze when he grabs the other’s hand (and wow, it practically swallows Yeosang’s whole) and tugs him so that their arms are pressed together. San is staring at them with wide eyes, mouth agape. 

“Wh-” San shakes his head in hopes of recentering himself, “Are you joking right now? When the hell did this happen?” 

Yeosang must have used the majority of his brain power getting them to this point, because as much as he scrambles for some kind of answer, he has nothing. But before he can panic, Mingi and his deep, confident voice come to the rescue, “It was actually last night. It kinda just happened, you know? We didn’t really have the chance to tell anyone-”

“In the name of all that is holy and Hongjoong, you guys really did it?” San’s eyes are still wide, but his gaping mouth is now taking the shape of an excited grin as he shouts, “I thought you dumbasses were _never_ gonna figure it out! God, Yunho owes me so much money, this is amazing. Uh, yeah sure! Head inside, but try not to make Seonghwa pass out when he starts interrogating you about how you snuck in. Enjoy, babies!” 

And then Yeosang is pulling Mingi into the building with his head down and his expression probably resembling something like _what the fuck did I do what the Actual Fuck did I do_ and honestly, anyone that has an answer to that question please step forward because Yeosang sure as hell doesn’t know. 

A large, firm hand that may or may not belong to Mingi pushes lightly at Yeosang’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to look up. They’re standing in the main hallway of the building, fake flower petals littering the floor and wow, Seonghwa really committed to the decor for this event. But who’s going to clean all of it up? It seems like-

“Yeo, dude. Outta your head for a second, okay?” Mingi’s voice is perplexed, and yeah, Yeosang probably needs to address this whole impromptu espionage he’d executed a minute ago. Looking upward, he sees Mingi giving him his patented _you’re my one and only bro but you stress me out_ look. Yeosang thinks it’s kind of funny to see it right now considering it’s usually reserved for when Yeosang is drunk and free of his usual inhibitions. 

Clearing his throat, Yeosang shrugs and says, “It was for the chocolate, man.”

He doesn’t really appreciate the eye roll he gets in response, but they’ve gotten this far, so, “What do you say we find the main room and stuff as much candy as we can into our pockets and then escape. I know you’re a skyscraper, but maybe we can find a window to crawl out of.”

Mingi’s rubbing at his own wrist, a nervous tic he’s had since Yeosang met him during orientation week in their first year, and his speaking rate picks up as he rambles, “Okay, but I would’ve bought you candy if you really fucking _wanted_ some, Yeo! Also, if Seonghwa’s here then so is Hongjoong and they will both interrogate us, and then we’re gonna get lectured because neither of us knows how to lie to them, so overall I think this was really dumb! Super dumb. The absolute dumbest.” 

Yeosang stares at him, unimpressed. “Really hate the thought of dating me that much, huh? It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. Let’s just go with my robbery plan and then we can hide in our apartment with our loot!” 

It’s either Yeosang’s puppy eyes or his excellent negotiation skills that convince Mingi (and Yeosang is shit with words, so there’s really only one probable answer), but regardless, the other huffs and grabs his hand. They (very stealthily) speed-walk down the hall and follow the sound of the Twice playlist Wooyoung most likely put on until they get to the main room. Yeosang holds in the urge to throw up at the excess of hearts covering every surface, from the tables to the walls to the curtains of the stage on the far side of the room. 

Part of him is proud of his friends for throwing an event that people actually came to, because there are multitudes of couples inside (some of them had obviously pregamed before arriving and are sloppily making out in various corners). He doesn’t see Seonghwa or anyone Seonghwa-adjacent in the vicinity, so Yeosang directs a gesture he saw in a James Bond movie once at Mingi, who blinks at him in confusion but follows him nonetheless. Crouched in a super-not-obvious way, the two slink into the room in search of the food table. 

It takes a few seconds of adjusting to the flashing lights of cheap disco balls acting as centerpieces on a few surrounding tables before Yeosang finally locates his target. Excitedly, he starts pulling Mingi in the direction of a _chocolate fountain holy shit_ , except it’s at this point that the universe decides to switch sides and stop helping them out.

“Yeosang? Mingi?” Jiwon stands in front of them, an unknowing obstacle in a pleated blue skirt. She offers a sweet smile even as her eyes track over their faces, searching. Mingi and Yeosang can only stare at her in contained horror as her eyes find their clasped hands and a gasp leaves her glossy lips. “Oh! Oh my gosh! I really thought we’d all be graduated before you guys- hey! Jisun! Come here!” 

“Uh, wait-” Mingi is ignored as Jisun joins them. Yeosang feels his stomach cramp up when she pops a chocolate-dipped strawberry into her mouth. Maybe they should’ve investigated their fridge for some dinner before coming to this nightmare circus.

What follows is another gasp and jumbled squealing as Jisun and Jiwon talk over one another, trying to understand when exactly Mingi and Yeosang confessed their so-called feelings to each other. Yeosang leaves Mingi to try and placate them as he looks longingly at the chocolate fountain behind them. 

Suddenly impatient (and maybe a little uncomfortable), Yeosang smiles at the two girls in what he hopes is a kind way and informs, “Sorry, we actually have uh. We have other plans, so we’re just gonna check out what’s around and then duck out.”

He chooses not to focus on Jiwon’s smirk and the way she nods at them knowingly when she says, “Oh, of course. Enjoy your plans, and congrats! It feels like we’ve been waiting ages for this.”

Jiwon clasps her hand around Jisun’s wrist and drags her away, fluttering the fingers of her free hand in farewell. Yeosang lets out a heavy breath and chances a look up at Mingi, who seems like he might start springing grey hairs at any moment. Feeling only slightly guilty, Yeosang rubs a thumb across the back of Mingi’s hand and consoles, “It’s okay Min! I think I see take-home boxes, so let’s just load up with our snacks and get the fuck out of here.”

The next few minutes pass by in a flurry of Yeosang and Mingi’s frantic hands dumping various desserts into four different boxes (plus a rushed interlude where Yeosang swallows three chocolate-dipped strawberries without choking). Once the boxes are closed, they nod at each other with crazed eyes and make a run for the door. There’s a moment of panic where Yeosang thinks he sees tufts of Seonghwa’s bleached (abused) hair among a crowd of gross PDA. He trips over his feet and nearly drops the boxes in his arms, the beginnings of a fearful (not to mention embarrassing) squeal stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

Somehow, they make it out without being caught. Mingi very helpfully suggests that they use another exit to avoid San (and if they risk setting off a fire alarm by pushing their way through an emergency exit, well, desperate times and all that). 

They jog through campus until the music building is out of view and then take a breather on a nearby bench. Yeosang rests his head on Mingi’s shoulder and waits for his heaving chest to settle down. Then he laughs and says, “Thanks, Min! I know you didn’t sign up to be undercover, but I personally think you’d make a great James Bond.” 

The exasperated smile Yeosang gets in return fills his chest with warmth, even if there’s some disapproval mixed in with the amusement in Mingi’s gaze. They lapse into silence until Mingi seems to have an epiphany, “Wait, but now, like, three different people think we’re dating?”

Yeosang waves off Mingi’s concern and stands up from the bench with his boxes of chocolate cradled in his arms. “No big deal, I honestly can’t believe they bought it. We’ll just explain what happened tomorrow. Now, come on! We should get back, you have an exam to study for and I have food to stuff my face with.” 

Mingi shakes his head at him even as he trails behind him toward home.

**\----**

Yeosang wakes up the next morning disoriented and with a sore neck. He blinks rapidly in an attempt to shake some sense back into his body and wonders if it’s possible to blackout from too much dessert. He notes that he hadn’t made it to his bed last night and instead fell asleep on their couch with his face smushed uncomfortably against one of the arms. (He might have gone through two of the boxes they’d finessed in spite of Mingi’s urgings to slow down.)

It’s after some of the grogginess lifts away that his eyes fall on what had woken him up—his phone vibrating mere centimeters from his face on the couch cushion. With a yawn, he picks it up to see what the commotion is. 

An incoming call from… his mom? 

He accepts it after a cursory glance at the time (10:45 AM) and grumbles out a rough, “‘Sup?”

“Don’t you ‘sup’ me, Kang Yeosang! Care to explain?”

She sounds angry, but in a way that comes across as teasing and not at all serious (especially since Yeosang has spent the last several years of his life learning to hear the smile in her voice). He’s not sure if it’s lingering exhaustion or just a lack of intelligence on his part, but regardless he doesn’t even try to guess and asks, “Explain what, mom? Is everything okay?” 

There’s a bout of laughter that carries through the line, which only serves to confuse him more. Eventually, she answers with her amusement bleeding through, “You finally start dating someone and you decide to play dumb? Really, Yeosang-”

“Whoa whoa _whoa_ , what are you talking about? What do you mean da-” Yeosang stops in his tracks and tries to keep his eyebrows from rising to the point they leave orbit. 

Fuck. 

In a poor attempt to hide his panic, Yeosang’s words fly out of his mouth in quick succession, “Mom, I’ll talk to you later, okay? I have class.” 

“But it’s Saturday-”

“Love you, bye!” He resists the urge to throw his phone as he hangs up. Vaulting himself into an upright position, he rushes to check his notifications, and. Oh. 

He is so fucked. 

**Eyebrow Man**  
_Explain._  
_I didn’t even see you last night?!_  
_Explain right now._

**Wee Woo by Pristin**  
_DUDE????  
YOU AND MINGI?????_

**Giant #2**  
_as mingi’s other best friend do i need to like…  
threaten u so u know not to hurt him_

**Jongathan**  
_fucking FINALLY jfc_  
_was getting tired of waiting,,  
anyways yay true love i guess_

**Father Figure**  
_I’M SO HAPPY FOR U._  
_IF U EVER NEED ADVICE_  
_IM HERE FOR U BB CONGRATS!!!_  
_MWAH!!!!_

**Sa(n)tan**  
_;D_

Yeosang doesn’t bother looking at any of the other texts he’s gotten. He opens twitter, an app he barely uses, but which currently shows 20 different mentions and several dm’s he refuses to respond to. He doesn’t even want to think about what San might’ve posted on facebook, since that’s definitely where his mom was made aware (and maybe he’s going to have to hack into San’s account and see just how many of Yeosang’s family members he’s friends with, what the hell). 

It’s in the midst of his near-fit of hyperventilating that he remembers a very important, very tall piece of this puzzle. 

Leaping over the back of the couch with his phone clutched tightly in his hand, Yeosang smooths a hand down his rumpled shirt and calmly makes his way to Mingi’s bedroom. Peering inside, he sees the other lying on his stomach, dead to the world. Yeosang closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. 

Maybe catapulting himself across the room and onto Mingi’s back isn’t the smartest idea (especially with the way the other grunts upon impact and promptly begins thrashing around like he’s trying to avoid an untimely murder), but Yeosang has a lot of pent up energy at the moment. He slides off the other’s back and situates himself on top of the comforter with his legs folded under him. Mingi flails his limbs in a lethargic attempt to turn onto his side, and when he finally succeeds, he stares at Yeosang incredulously through half opened eyes. The question rumbles deep in his chest, “What the everloving fuck was that?”

Yeosang’s lips thin out as his gaze drifts to some far off place (preferably where people aren’t posting about him dating his best friend across various social media platforms). It isn’t until Mingi places a hand on his knee that he manages to get the words out, “Uh. So, good morning! Might want to check your phone. Also don’t panic, we need one of us to be level headed and I do _not_ volunteer as tribute.” 

He waits patiently for Mingi to squint at him in suspicion, waits for him to reach over and grab his phone from his nightstand so he can check his notifications. Yeosang thinks this might be the first time he’s ever witnessed all five stages of grief pass over someone’s face in under four seconds. 

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, so-”

“Yeosang, what the fuck. Really, what the fuck?”

“Uh-”

“What the fuck! The actual fuck is what I wanna know-”

“Dude!” Yeosang is only slightly embarrassed at how he screeches the word, but he can see Mingi’s brain glitching through his bed head and Yeosang’s gotta nip this in the bud before Mingi’s voice rises an obscene number of decibels. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to be the level headed one? God. Let’s breathe and try to figure this out, okay? My mom called asking why I didn’t tell her, so this obviously got a little out of hand.”

There’s a _damn, you think?_ look on Mingi’s face, which is followed by, “We should’ve talked to San immediately instead of letting this just sit for the night. Of course he wouldn’t keep it to himself!” 

Well, he had a point there. But Yeosang has never claimed to have _logical_ or _smart_ ideas. Mingi should know that by now. 

To get rid of the weird silence sitting between them, Yeosang suggests, “we could always just hide in here until it blows over. Or! We can hitchhike and go live in some rural village where no one knows us.”

“Yeah,” Mingi says, sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “because running away together surely wouldn’t make anything worse.” 

The other’s tone makes Yeosang’s chest hurt, and he can’t stop his lips from pulling into a pout when he mumbles, “I’m really sorry, okay? I didn’t know-”

Mingi stops him by holding up a hand, his gaze softening. “Nah. I’m sorry, Yeo. This is a weird situation and I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but it’s okay. Like you said before, we’ll figure it out.” 

Yeosang nods slowly, reaches out a tentative hand and pats Mingi’s unruly hair down. Mingi offers a reassuring smile (one that wavers at the corners, but Yeosang appreciates the effort). 

“So,” Yeosang starts after the conversation lapses into that weird silence again, “What do we do?”

There’s a part of him that still thinks running away is a worthwhile option to explore, but Mingi beats him to the punch and concludes, “We gotta come clean to our friends, at the very least. It’s better not to let this get worse.”

**\----**

“We are so happy for you guys!” Wooyoung’s eyes are bright, and he claps his hands together like the thought of Mingi and Yeosang together is the greatest news ever—greater than his favorite band coming to campus the other month, greater than when he won that raffle for free textbooks. Yeosang wants to shrivel up and die knowing he’s going to be responsible for dimming the expression on the other’s face.

All eight of them are in the campus cafe and crowded around a table too small for them, but Yunho gets discounts since he works as a barista, so beggars can’t be choosers. They’re all wearing matching grins as they study Yeosang and Mingi, and Yeosang doesn’t think he’s ever been so acutely aware of Mingi’s presence beside him. 

Seonghwa leans forward with narrowed eyes and studies them for a few moments before his face relaxes into a fond smile. “I was worried this would never happen, and as annoyed as I am that you showed up to my event without saying hi… I’m really excited for you!” 

The other five nod in agreement, and Yeosang is pretty sure if they don’t stop staring at him with hearts in their eyes he might pour hot coffee into his own. The idea of telling them the truth is painful, because they look so fucking ecstatic about the news (and, honestly, isn’t that kind of weird? Why would they want him and Mingi to get together?). He remembers what Mingi said, though, and opens his mouth to deliver the bad (? for them, he supposes) news.

Except Mingi decides to throw a complete curveball aimed right at Yeosang’s face. 

“We’re uh, we’re really glad you guys are so supportive! We didn’t know how to tell you.” Yeosang’s eyes are wide as they snap up to scrutinize Mingi’s expression, because what the actual hell? Mingi smiles down at him and tugs Yeosang into his side, and it’s only because Yeosang has special best-friend-senses that he can pick up on the anxiousness in Mingi’s eyes. 

_Just go with it_ is what they’re saying. 

Hoping no one caught on to his shock, Yeosang gives Mingi a gentle smile and leans his head back against the other’s broad chest. “Yeah,” he pushes out, “it’s still so new, you might say we’re just figuring things out.” 

He resists the urge to laugh at himself. 

Jongho is the one to respond with an eye roll that contradicts the upward pull of his lips, “Just don’t get too gross with the PDA, alright? I can only take so much of this honeymoon stuff in front of me.” 

He’d never admit it, but Jongho is Yeosang’s favorite. 

They sit around together for another hour, attention pulled away from Yeosang and Mingi (thank god) to discuss random topics such as San’s various admirers that keep sending chocolate and flowers to his apartment followed by Wooyoung’s irritation at said admirers. They break apart when it’s time for Yunho’s shift to start and he shoves them out of the cafe, fearful that they’ll distract him and get him fired (which isn’t that far fetched considering that exact situation happened with Hongjoong’s job at the university library last year). 

Yeosang kind of really hates the weird silence he keeps getting trapped in with Mingi, a situation that rears its ugly head once again on their way back to their apartment. He chances a few glances at Mingi, who (very frustratingly) refuses to make any sort of eye contact with Yeosang. 

Well, this isn’t going to work. 

His hand grips Mingi’s wrist involuntarily, but it gets Mingi’s attention so Yeosang decides to go with it. He stares at the other for a second before asking, “Wanna explain what happened to telling them the truth? Because I’m pretty sure they think we’re on our way to being married now.”

The grimace on Mingi’s face deepens. “I couldn’t do it, they all seemed so… weirdly happy about it. Were we supposed to make Wooyoung sad? It’s illegal to make Wooyoung sad!” 

As ridiculous as this situation is becoming, Mingi isn’t wrong. There had definitely been a bizarre relief spread among their friends at the notion of he and Mingi getting together, and it’s a revelation that opens an entirely new pandora’s box of unanswered questions. Yeosang is about to try and address some of those questions when his eyes catch on a sign posted in the display window of his favorite place: the campus bakery.

_VALENTINE’S SPECIAL!  
Come in with your other half and get a free bagel_

Yeosang wants to know why single people are being discriminated against during one of the loneliest times of the year, but that desire is secondary to the prospect of a free bagel. (You might be wondering why Yeosang hasn’t learned his lesson yet. Please refer back to the _Big Book of Yeosang’s Morals_ where you will find a list of all the free things he is willing to throw away his dignity for.)

“Min?” He makes sure his pout is situated firmly on his face by the time Mingi looks at him in question. Yeosang’s eyes flicker between Mingi and the bakery, and he bats his lashes for extra effect. “We’re already deep in our tale of deceit, why not get more stuff out of it?” 

The way Mingi’s shoulders slump tells Yeosang he doesn’t exactly approve, but that he doesn’t have a good enough argument for why they _shouldn’t_ , which is all Yeosang needs to begin dragging him toward the entrance. 

There is a series of interactions that occur when they step inside; a few people Yeosang places from various classes gawk at their clasped hands, and the cashier in particular recognizes Yeosang and reaches across the counter to clap a congratulatory hand on his shoulder. The pandora’s box deepens with the addition of more questions, but the cashier gives him a complementary cookie, so he can’t find it in himself to care _that_ much. 

He and Mingi settle at one of the tables and munch on their bagels in silence (less weird than before, but still tinged with discomfort). Yeosang must have gotten some stray cream cheese on his face, because Mingi absentmindedly brings a thumb up to rub at the corners of Yeosang’s mouth. Yeosang’s cheeks lift with a thankful smile, but he drops it just as quickly when he sees the cashier not-so-surreptitiously cooing over them as he situates a plate of cupcakes in the display case. 

Clearing his throat, Yeosang leans forward and mumbles, “We gotta figure a way out of this, dude.” 

Mingi nods and speaks around a mouthful of bagel, “Uh, yeah, it’s pretty weird. I guess.” 

“Right,” Yeosang agrees. He’s taking a contemplative bite when another genius idea comes to him. “Oh! I got it.”

He settles on a pause (for the suspense) and watches Mingi’s eyes widen, observes the way his chewing slows in anticipation. Finally, Yeosang lays out his perfect plan, “Let’s just go with it for like, a week or whatever. And then! We can stage a breakup and say we’d rather just stay as friends. That way we don’t have to tell anyone we lied!” 

The urge to pat himself on the back is strong, even if Mingi is looking doubtfully at his half-eaten bagel. Yeosang decides to bring the conversation home, “We’ll also avoid lectures about honesty from Seonghwa and Hongjoong.” 

Yeosang wishes Mingi would indicate some more enthusiasm rather than just shrugging one shoulder, but at least they seem to be in agreement. Yeosang lifts his bagel and toasts, “to breaking up!” 

He chooses to ignore the foreign ache in his chest at Mingi’s smirk, focuses instead on how the other lifts his own bagel and taps it against Yeosang’s. 

“To breaking up.”

**\----**

Yeosang is lounging on his bed and playing a game on his phone (while dodging calls from his persistent mother) when he hears a soft knock against his open door. He meets Mingi’s gaze and tilts his head at the curious glint he finds in it. He hopes this uncomfortable dance they’re doing around one another only lasts as long as their pseudo-relationship plays out, because it’s making him kind of (very) queasy.

“Hey Min,” Yeosang falls back on humor, “What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Concern mixed with something Yeosang can’t name weighs down the corners of his mouth in response to the way Mingi gnaws on his bottom lip, hand gripping the top of Yeosang’s door (and wow, we _get it_ you’re tall). The words leave Mingi’s mouth like they’re being forcefully yanked from between his teeth, “I was just thinking, we gotta make this look convincing, right? Maybe we should, I don’t know. Practice. Or something.” 

Scrunching his nose, Yeosang prods, “Practice?” 

A muscle in Mingi’s jaw twitches, and then he’s swinging a hand through the air and rambling, “Nevermind, uh, bad idea. It was just a passing thought, you know? Like, _hey, maybe we should figure out how couples interact_ or whatever, but it’s honestly not a big deal so-”

“No, actually,” Yeosang ponders, “That might be a good idea. We gotta sell it a little bit, but not too much or they won’t buy a breakup. You know what I mean?”

Mingi nods in a way he probably thinks is nonchalant and leans against the door frame, “So… what should we, uh. Work on?”

Yeosang’s head bounces against his pillow as he plops fully onto his back and runs his eyes over the water stain on his ceiling. The first thought that climbs (unbidden, might he add) to the forefront of his mind is _couples kiss a lot_ , but he immediately shoves that to the back of his internal filing cabinet and locks the drawer before moving on. A bell dings and echoes in his ears when it finally comes to him. 

He ignores the pensive expression on Mingi’s face and scoots up the bed, beckoning for the other to come sit with him. They end up sitting cross-legged and facing each other (even if Mingi seems to be allergic to direct eye contact at the moment). Yeosang leans back on his hands and suggests, “Pet names.” 

Yeosang’s beginning to think their status as a dynamic duo is changing to a troublesome trio with how often this weird silence likes to hang out (and if it was a tangible entity, he would not hesitate to drop kick it into another dimension). 

“Uh.. pet names?” 

“Yep. Pet names.” 

Mingi looks on the precipice of panic, which makes no sense because he was the one who was posing in Yeosang’s doorway talking about _practice_ like they were rehearsing for a school play (and come to think of it, that scenario isn’t actually that far off). Regardless, Yeosang tries to elaborate, “We gotta figure out the right way to talk to each other, because if one of us drops a ‘Honeybun’ or something without warning, we’re definitely getting found out.”

Thankfully, this line of logic seems to click with Mingi, because he immediately dons his _I’m thinking really hard please don’t interrupt me_ face. Except Yeosang wishes he had actually interrupted him, because he feels something inside of him shrivel up at the same time that it expands and explodes in response to the deep voiced “baby” Mingi decides to unleash without warning. 

Are Yeosang’s cheeks heating up? Not at all. His bro just uttered a simple term of endearment (and maybe the word was soaked in honey; that’s called _acting_ and Yeosang is completely unaffected). He lets loose a (very natural and not at all forced) laugh and stutters, “U-Uh.. yeah. That’s uh. The standard, probably? Yeah.” 

With a tilt of his head, Mingi finally meets his eyes and prompts, “your turn.”

They’re taking turns now? Fine.

“Right,” Yeosang drawls, “Hm… oh! What about ‘big guy’?”

The deadpan look on Mingi’s face makes Yeosang laugh, even as Mingi protests that _the point of this is to be endearing, Yeo_. 

Yeosang argues, “No, listen! It’s actually adorable because you are… let’s admit it, you’re basically Goliath and honestly it’s attractive so-”

“You think my height is attractive?”

A pause. Some confused sweating. Then, “Uh, yeah? Objectively. Back to my point, I- here, let me help you visualize this.” 

He leans forward and grips one of Mingi’s hands in both of his own, pulls it toward himself and presses the back of it to his cheek, and exclaims around a smile, “Love you, big guy!” 

Mingi doesn’t respond, mouth parted in a soft _huh_ , but the way his eyes soften traps Yeosang’s gaze, calloused warmth seeping into Yeosang’s cheek for a few seconds before he comes back to himself and releases Mingi’s hand. He manages to avert his eyes to the tiny hole in his sweatpants by the knee. A hum from somewhere above his head isn’t enough to make him raise his head, but Mingi’s next words do wonders at defusing: “Should we just watch shitty romcoms and reenact them until the others get mad enough they ask us to break up?” 

Yeosang can’t stop his hands from flying up to his mouth in an attempt to block the ugly laugh that spills out. “Bold of you to think they’d even ask, they’d probably chip in for a lawyer and make us legally obligated to separate.” 

“True,” Mingi giggles, “but if we’re going to court, I’m definitely gonna interrogate them about the bizarre interest they have in our love lives while we’re there.” 

Sharing a brain cell with another person has its perks, their agreed confusion being one of them. 

Mouth screwed to one side, Yeosang guesses, “Our friends are all gross and sappy, they’re probably just into the whole friends-falling-in-love vibe. San has a collection of bad romcoms at the back of his closet, so… not that surprising.” 

Curiously, Mingi seems like he wants to say something, but instead his mouth closes and he studies the lines on his palms. Is there something Yeosang’s missing? 

“Uh-”

“So what’s our story, anyways? We should have something right?” Mingi stretches his arms above his head and yawns around the last few words. 

Oh, very true. 

Tapping his chin in thought, Yeosang remembers the inciting incident of their predicament. “Wait, what did you tell San? You said something right?”

Mingi snorts, “Yeah, to save your ass.”

Yeosang lets out a _hmph_ and shoves Mingi’s shoulder (which Yeosang is proud to say nearly sends the other tumbling off the bed). “Well, San has a good memory so you might wanna remember whatever your brain came up with amidst all the panic.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Mingi stretches his legs out and manages to kick Yeosang with both of them. Taking a deep breath, he fixes Mingi with a glare and grumbles, “you never do what I say, _ever_. Best Friend Neglect.”

The incredulous look on Mingi’s face is enough to smooth out the wrinkle between Yeosang’s brows, especially because he can practically imagine the thoughts drifting through Mingi’s head at Yeosang’s accusation (“I don’t do what you say? Me?! Kang Yeosang, I swear to god-”). He doesn’t let Mingi voice any of his offense, though, just waves his hand in dismissal and says, “anyways… let’s get to plotting!” 

And because he’s Yeosang and Mingi is Mingi, that’s exactly what they do.

**\----**

The next two days are fairly uneventful; Mingi is barricaded in his bedroom absorbing a semester’s worth of lecture notes and Yeosang has converted a corner table in the campus library into a makeshift campsite (a bag of marshmallows covering a stray notebook included, you know, for camper culture). He’s currently scanning an article about neural processing, highlighter wielded like a sword in his hand, when he feels a presence across from him.

Yunho is grinning at him with his chin resting on his folded hands—it’s only a little disconcerting. 

“Uh,” Yeosang starts as he caps his highlighter, “What’s up-”

“I was just thinking,” Yunho interrupts, “about you and Mingi, wondering why we haven’t gotten the whole story yet. I was only here to check out a book ‘cause you know… it’s a library, they have books here. But here you are! I think it’s fate-”

Yeosang holds up a hand, mouth set in a thin line, and questions, “What’s with the rambling, dude? And the story isn’t all that interesting-” 

He’s cut off by Yunho leaning over the table and snatching his article from under his nose, a noise of protest climbing out of his mouth at the sudden movement. Crossing his arms, he demands an explanation from the annoyingly pleased giant smirking at him. 

With the dramatics of a theatre nerd (which is what Yunho is, as much as he’ll deny it vehemently), Yunho waves the paper and taunts, “You have something I want… now I have something you want. Mutual interest at work here, I think.”

“Did you marathon _Bad Guys_ again?” Yeosang deadpans, pretty sure in the back of his mind that they’d banned Yunho from consuming any form of crime or mafia fiction since a single episode of a drama is enough to make him think he’s a master-detective-in-the-making. 

Yeosang doesn’t feel bad about the pout that’s crawled onto Yunho’s face, but that changes (just a little) when Yunho says, “Come on, man. Let’s talk boys! One boy in particular. A boy we both think is pretty great and,” a shift in tone, “a boy I just want to make sure is happy. You know?” 

It’s inevitable that Yeosang and Mingi have other friends, other people they interact with and get to know outside of one another. Among their circle, Yeosang has Wooyoung and Mingi has Yunho. If this situation (which is _fake_ , not that Yunho knows that) was turned around, Yeosang can’t say he wouldn’t be interrogating Yunho in the same way. 

It makes him wonder what the fallout is going to be when they “break up.” He’ll have to tell Mingi not to add any waterworks or Yunho’s gonna use use his gigantic hands to squash Yeosang like a bug. 

Regardless of the puppy-demon hybrid eyes Yunho is directing at him, Yeosang is thankful he’d nagged Mingi about getting their backstory together. Leave it to their friends to be especially nosy as if this is a real life fanfiction unfolding before their very eyes (and knowing San, at least, that’s probably not an exaggeration). 

“Fine,” Yeosang huffs, tossing his highlighter into his bag and eyeing his captive article (and fuck, can Yunho stop crumbling the edges? Yeosang doesn’t want to have to print out another copy). “So, things had gotten kinda? Awkward between us last week. Mingi had mentioned he liked someone and didn’t know what to do about it, and it just made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t figure it out, you know?”

“Ah, yes, good ol’ gay jealousy,” Yunho offers with an understanding nod. The article’s fallen past the edge of the table and into Yunho’s lap, probably so he’d be able to steeple his hands like he’s Dumbledore and in the midst of offering his wise words to a young, spritely wizard-in-training.

Eye twitching, Yeosang continues, “Uh… yeah. Anyways, I got tired of hearing about this dumb crush which, weird, huh? Mingi’s my bro so why would I be mad about that? Anyways, before we knew it we were fighting and I say something about how he should just go find his stupid crush, and he goes and yells something like _I’m looking at the dumbass right now!_ and yeah. We like, made out or whatever afterwards. Rest is history.” 

Yunho’s hands have moved to press against his cheeks, eyes soft and gross like Yeosang just recited the entirety of the script from _The Notebook_. Before Yeosang can ask what’s wrong with him, the other sighs and murmurs, “That’s so… unromantic and embarrassing. It’s the best love story I’ve ever heard!” 

Pouting, Yeosang makes grabby hands and definitely does _not_ whine when he asks for his article back. Yunho slides it over to him with a smirk and stands up. Then he’s reaching a hand over to ruffle Yeosang’s hair and coo, “I’m happy for you! Cute, clueless gays. Take care of Min, though, okay? He’s fragile.”

And then the overbearing giant disappears, leaving traces of confusion and irritation (and relief) in the set of Yeosang’s mouth. He thinks about the complete bullshit he’d just spewed, imagines fighting with Mingi on that kind of scale. 

It’s strange, right? He can barely put the scenario together in his mind, even as he manages to stitch the threads together to get a hazy image—a farfetched hypothetical. 

He sees a blurry Mingi staring at him with wild eyes, voice thick with emotions neither of them can name. _I’m looking at the dumbass right now!_ The words are followed by time stalling and then lurching forward with the way warm hands grasp Yeosang’s jaw and bring him into a desperate kiss-

A coughing fit overtakes Yeosang’s lungs, makes him push his chair backwards and hit his chest with a tight fist. As he regains use of his airway, he’s left staring at a pencil mark smudged into the wood of the table. 

He blames the mishap on his penchant for method acting and retrieves his highlighter from his bag.

**\----**

They’ve made it to Wednesday when it happens (and if Yeosang is being honest, he should’ve seen something like this coming).

“A double date?” He hopes his reluctance doesn’t bleed into his tone too much, especially with the way Wooyoung is grinning at him. 

Wooyoung nods and leans forward. They’re sitting at a table in the cafe, hands wrapped around the drinks they’d bullied Yunho into giving them discounts on. Yeosang had been wondering why Wooyoung had suddenly dragged him here after catching him walking out of his last lecture of the day. Turns out it was to push plans that Wooyoung knows Yeosang will have trouble excusing himself from. 

He tries anyways, “Ah, you know, we’d love to-”

“Great! Tomorrow night then.”

Yeosang’s face pulls into a wince as he shakes his head, “Wait, we really can’t. We can’t go. Mingi’s got this huge paper due and-”

“Hm, that’s funny. I talked to Mingi in class this morning and he was going on a full rant about how he’s free of, and I quote, _the clutches of this institution’s capitalist agenda_ until next Tuesday,” and fuck, Wooyoung looks suspicious. 

Yeosang gapes, “The fuck does that even mean?”

Wooyoung shrugs, “I don’t know, he took one Social Theory class and thinks he’s Karl Marx or something.” 

Stupid Mingi. 

Knowing he’s gonna lose this one, Yeosang relents, “Anyways... his deadline must’ve been pushed back and he didn’t tell me. Wild!” 

Wooyoung’s forehead is still wrinkled, eyes still scrutinizing when he prompts, “So, tomorrow night? You’ll meet me and San in the courtyard by the fountain?” 

“Yeah. Sure, dude.” Yeosang suddenly feels exhausted. 

It looks like their practice with pet names is going to be put to use, after all.

**\----**

Yeosang refuses to look at Mingi.

Mingi is decidedly annoyed by this, and communicates so by periodically bumping his elbow into Yeosang’s arm. It’s after the third time that Yeosang jumps away and fixes the other with a grimace. 

The picture of tired irritation, Mingi groans, “How was I supposed to know Wooyoung was gonna force us into this? Why didn’t he ask me, anyways? He had to search you out!”

“Let’s not go into the politics of our friend group right now. I’m freezing.” Yeosang’s complaint is punctuated by a full-bodied shiver. Why Wooyoung told him to meet them outside during one of the coldest nights of the semester is beyond Yeosang’s icicle-laden mind. It’s approaching 7:30 and what is usually a fairly crowded courtyard is completely abandoned aside from him and Mingi (who are standing with their hands shoved into their pockets like a couple of idiots). 

Another shiver wracks his body, and he chooses to ignore the scoff Mingi lets out (along with the muttered _told you to bundle up, dummy_ ). Mingi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem keen to deal with Yeosang’s theatrics, because there’s a hand wrapping around Yeosang’s bicep and pulling him against a broad chest. Not even bothering to protest, Yeosang sighs and presses his nose into the wool coat Mingi has armed himself with. Despite the fact the other can’t see it, Yeosang still pouts on principle when Mingi chuckles and opens up his coat to pull Yeosang inside of it with him. 

After that, Yeosang doesn’t say much at all. He just keeps his cheek pressed between Mingi’s collarbones and closes his eyes. At one point he manages to mumble, “You’re dumb.”

Mingi answers with a huff, “We’re both dumb. A match made in heaven.”

“Aw, you guys are so adorable!” 

Yeosang rips himself from the confines of Mingi’s arms (mourns the loss of warmth) and blows air into his cupped hands to try and distract from the confusing heat pooling in his cheeks. He thinks he feels Mingi’s gaze on the back of his head, but he bypasses the urge to meet his eyes and looks at San and Wooyoung instead. 

San has both arms wrapped around one of Wooyoung’s, not a single centimeter between them with the way they’re glued together from their thighs up to their shoulders. San’s hat is fuzzy and looks curiously like the one Hongjoong had complained about losing two weeks ago. 

The damned weird silence makes a reappearance as the four of them stare at each other without saying anything. 

Finally, Wooyoung breaks the awkward tension, “You guys ready, then?”

A hand grasps Yeosang’s (which he tries very hard not to flinch at). Mingi squeezes Yeosang’s fingers when he says, “Yep. Where are we going anyways?” 

San only beams.

**\----**

Bowling.

They’re at a bowling alley. 

“Why are we at a bowling alley?” Yeosang knows he’s being a brat, and he can’t quite pinpoint why. (He does know, however, that he’s going to send himself flying down the lane and into the pins if Mingi doesn’t stop playing with the stray hairs at the nape of his neck.)  
He knows he’s fucked up just a little when he notices the offended purse of San’s lips. “We’ve all been stressed with classes! Let’s get some of that frustration out in a harmless if not mildly violent way!” 

Well, if you put it like that. 

“Are we doing teams?” Mingi’s voice is very close to Yeosang’s ear. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, doesn’t know how to feel about Mingi’s sudden comfort with playing the boyfriend role. But then again, they _are_ meant to be a couple. This requires acting. 

Yeosang can do that, he’s just gotta lean into it some more. 

Pressing himself against Mingi’s side, he jokes, “I hope so, big guy! You’re gonna need me to adjust your form.” 

The blush on Mingi’s face is priceless, Yeosang really has to resist the urge to snicker into his hand like a twelve-year-old. 

His satisfaction, however, doesn’t last long. Sudden determination flashes across Mingi’s face, and then his eyes are darkening. Looking over at San and Wooyoung, Mingi shouts, “Let’s start! Us versus you guys—get ready to lose!”

A smirk tinged with a competitive edge stretches across San’s face. 

“You’re on.”

**\----**

A new edition to the _Big Book of Yeosang’s Morals_ : No need to stop if it means you win.

Win what, you might ask? Yeosang has no fucking clue, but he’s in too deep at the moment to turn back. 

“Come on, babe! You can do better than that!” Yeosang’s taunt makes Mingi’s shoulders tense up, but he doesn’t look over and instead keeps his hands carefully positioned on his bowling ball. He lines up, back straight, and Yeosang is once again reminded by just how tall his best friend is. Not discouraged in the slightest, Yeosang tries again, “I’ll reward you with something special if you can get a strike, handsome!” 

Mingi nearly flings the ball into the neighboring lane. Yeosang can’t hold in his cackle. 

They’ve been going at it for at least five rounds, teasing one another with an excessive amount of endearments and immature leers. Yeosang thinks his own are warranted considering Mingi’s last attempts to make him embarrass himself. 

(“You need some help, baby boy? I’m right here if you do!” 

Yeosang had nearly dropped his bowling ball on his foot.)

Wooyoung and San are nothing more than vague entities hovering around them and taking up the lane in between Mingi and Yeosang’s jabs. Yeosang hasn’t registered a single thing they’ve said to him, too busy coming up with grossly affectionate things he can yell at the back of Mingi’s head. 

He doesn’t hide the pleased look on his face when Mingi scowls at him on the way back to his seat. He’d only managed to knock four pins down. 

Hopping up, he pats Mingi’s cheek and goes to pick up his ball. 

He should’ve known Mingi would play dirty. 

The oppressing warmth at his back makes him jump, and he’s unable to help the chill that runs up his spine when strong arms bracket his sides. A pair of hands rest over his own on the ball, and Yeosang’s traitorous mind can’t help but note the size difference. 

A chin rests against his shoulder, warm breath hitting his cheek, “Let me help, baby.”

Yeosang’s brain glitches, and all he can do is breathe out a soft _hm_. 

He lets Mingi take the lead, feels him pull their arms back and swing the ball once, twice, and then it’s barrelling down and colliding with the pins. 

Strike. 

Neither of them move for a moment. Yeosang can’t stop himself from acknowledging that if he turns his head, the other’s lips would be right there. Those same lips brush against his ear. His skin is burning. 

There’s a whispered, “I win,” and then the warmth is gone and Yeosang is left standing alone in front of the lane. He feels his fingers curl around thin air and briefly considers throwing up on his rental shoes. 

He thinks he hears San whining about how little attention they paid to him (“This was supposed to be a double date and yet somehow me and Wooyoung were both the third wheel, what the fuck?!”), but it’s hard to register past the blood rushing in his ears. 

“Hey, Yeo, you ready to go?” Mingi is looking at him like nothing happened at all, and somehow that fucks up Yeosang even more. 

In spite of the way his hands are trembling, he manages a nod and a steady grin, “Yeah, uh, good game.”

**\----**

That night, Yeosang dreams.

_A heavy weight around his waist, a pointed nose dragging across the column of his throat. He turns his face into the other person’s hair and smiles softly. The arm around his waist tightens and a rough chuckle vibrates against his skin._

_“You think it’d be bad if we just stayed in bed today?”_

_Yeosang lets out a laugh of his own and threads his fingers through the ones resting against his side. “I don’t think it’d hurt. You owe me, anyways.”_

_A hand is brushing over his abdomen, moving lower and lower, “Do I?”_

_Rolling onto his side, he moves to capture the other’s lips in a lazy kiss. The wandering hand thumbs at his hip bone and trails downward-_

Yeosang shoots up, chest heaving. He blindly grabs for his phone and checks the time. 

3:54 AM. 

He falls back and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness. He thinks it over. 

“Huh.” 

That could’ve been anyone, right? It could’ve been anyone. 

(Yeosang is fucked.)

**\----**

It’s past two in the afternoon and Yeosang still hasn’t gotten out of bed. He can hear Mingi crashing around in the kitchen through their thin walls. He hates the way that piece of knowledge makes him nauseous.

His phone vibrates in his hand. It’s his mom—she probably wants to murder him for ignoring her calls the past few days. 

He picks up. 

“Hey-”

“Kang Yeosang, you are so completely dead.”

“Ha, yeah, anyways-”

“You’re grounded! It doesn’t matter that you don’t live with me anymore, I will call Mingi and _make sure_ you don’t see the sun for at least a month-”

“Mom! I’m really sorry.”

A pause. A hum. 

“Well,” she ponders, “alright. How are you, honey?” 

It doesn’t bode well that he feels like crying, does it?

“Sweetheart?”

He manages to force out a laugh and tries to feign nonchalance, “I’m great, mom. It’s just been really busy, and, you know. A lot of changes.” 

There’s another hum across the line. He wonders if she’d let him come back home for a few days (maybe a few months). “You and Mingi, huh? How’s that going?”

“Good, mom,” He hates how he can barely hide the waver running through his voice, “We’ve been figuring some things out. Honestly, though, I don’t know if-”

“I’m so happy for you, Sangie. I know that you- hmm. How do I put this?” 

Momentarily forgetting his own existential crisis, he tilts his head and asks, “Put what?”

She’s gathering her words, trying to put them together carefully (she’s always tried to explain things fully, not one to sidestep details). 

Finally: “Well, you’ve never been one to open up to others, sweetheart. I was pretty shocked to hear that you’d found someone who makes you happy in this way. I know that’s probably why you didn’t want to talk about it, I know things like this are difficult. But I want you to know just how happy I am, how relieving it is to know there’s someone there that you’ll let yourself lean on.” 

There’s pain in trying to swallow down the tears brimming in his eyes (and why the fuck is he crying? This situation is stupid, ridiculous, confusing, _stupid_ ). 

The thought of making her sad, making her worry about him over the pointless mess he’s involved himself in is what makes him say, “I’m happy, too. I have a good feeling about this one, mom.” 

“I’m glad, honey.” 

Yeosang wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

**\----**

He doesn’t realize that they’ve reached the end of the week until he’s swallowing down ramyun on their worn-out couch and Mingi’s walking through the front door only to stare at him. He has a beanie pulled down past his forehead and covering his ears, scarf wrapped up to his chin. He looks adorable.

Dying sounds really nice right now. 

“So,” Mingi starts, stripping himself of his winter gear and leaving only a loose sweater and ripped jeans. “How do we want to do this?” 

Isn’t it funny how ramyun looks practically radioactive in color when it’s straight out of a cup? Its salty properties could probably give someone special powers-

“Dude?” 

When Yeosang looks up, Mingi is scrutinizing him with an arched brow. 

Coughing around a mouthful of noodles, Yeosang asks, “How do we want to do what?” 

The eyebrow arches higher. “The breakup? It’s the end of the week.” 

Oh. Well. 

Setting down the cup on the coffee table, Yeosang starts rambling, “Yeah about that, I actually just talked to my mom, and she was so overbearing! You know moms, always calling and asking things and- anyways. She kept talking about how happy she is that I’m in a relationship. I think we should just, I don’t know, give it another week or something? Not a big deal, if you ask me. We have exams and papers due so hardly anyone will even notice and-”

“Sure.”

Yeosang blinks. “‘Sure?’ You’re good with that?”

The soft smile on Mingi’s lips does nothing to sort Yeosang’s jumbled brain cells. “Yeah, I mean, like you said. It doesn’t hurt, right? No big deal.” 

Shoulders slumped, Yeosang nods, “Yeah, uh. Yeah. No big deal.” 

They lapse into silence, but only for a few shaky exhales (on Yeosang’s part) before Mingi is launching himself onto the couch and stealing the remote. “I think the guys want to get dinner tomorrow, anyways. Now, let’s do what all the best couples do. Netflix and Chill.” 

Yeosang snorts and shoves Mingi hard, trying his best not to beam in the face of the dorky giggles spilling out of the other’s mouth. 

Is this self-destructive? Possibly. Is Yeosang running from honest conversation? Likely. Does he care at the moment? 

Not at all. 

They make their way through two acts of some low-budget comedy when Yeosang realizes they’d managed to gradually drift closer to each other until their shoulders are touching, Mingi’s hand close enough to Yeosang’s thigh that he could easily grip it-

Pause. 

Yeosang sinks lower, focuses on the screen and tries his best to ignore their proximity (which, really, they’ve been cuddling since a week into meeting each other, what’s the big deal here?). Normally, they’d be joking around and working through a running commentary of whatever scenes are playing out, but they seem to be content to just sit next to each other and watch without ever opening their mouths. 

For whatever reason, Yeosang’s mind wanders to his dream. He doesn’t realize he’s turned to glance over at Mingi, caught on his lips until he hears a rumbling, “Do I have something on my face?” 

Eyes snapping upward, Yeosang chews on his lips and shakes his head. “Nah, man, sorry… got caught in my head a little bit.” 

Mingi hums in acknowledgement, searches Yeosang’s features for something. Yeosang isn’t sure what, exactly, but it makes his ears go red. “Th-The movie…”

“Right, yeah.” Mingi still doesn’t look away. 

Yeosang doesn’t know exactly how it happens, doesn’t know who pulls the other in, doesn’t know who yanks away first. All he can grasp is the way his lips tingle and the faroff look on Mingi’s face as he stares at a point past Yeosang’s shoulder. 

It’s another second before Yeosang’s brain catches up with him. 

Did they just? They did-

“Fuck.” And then Yeosang is tumbling off the couch, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes that might be his and tugging a random jacket off the rack on his way out the door.

**\----**

That thing Yeosang had said about not caring? Turns out he does care. He cares a whole fucking lot.

“Yun! Open the door, I’m freezing! Jeong Yunho!” Yeosang continues pounding on the chipped paint of Yunho’s door. He really can’t believe audacity of his friend to leave him out here when he’s on the verge of becoming a desperate man’s Frosty the Snowbitch. 

(Nevermind the fact that it’s approximately 12:34 AM and Yunho’s neighbors are definitely going to call the police soon. It’s Yunho’s fault, anyways.)

The door flies open violently, and there’s Yunho standing in the entryway with his eyes barely open and looking homicidal. His face scrunches up at the sight of Yeosang shaking on his doorstep, denim jacket wrapped haphazardly around his shoulders because he’s dumb and full of panic. 

“Yeosang? What the fuck-”

“I’ll explain in a sec, just let me the fuck in before I die of hypothermia!” He doesn’t wait for a response, just shoves past Yunho and makes a beeline for the other’s tiny living room. He collapses onto the couch and yanks the fluffy blanket sitting across the back of it down onto himself. His eyes fall shut and a sigh of relief breezes past his lips. 

When he opens his eyes, he spots Yunho still standing in by the door with concerned eyes. He looks ready to call the police or maybe an ambulance, neither of which will do. So Yeosang laughs and beckons the other to come closer. Better to feign emotional stability than make your friend think you’re having some form of a walking stroke. 

Warily, Yunho approaches him and perches himself on the coffee table across from Yeosang (and that’s kind of unsanitary isn’t it? Yeosang hopes the other doesn’t eat off of it, ever). Hesitant hands rest on Yeosang’s knees, Yunho still looking like he’d just been woken from a multi-month hibernation with nowhere near the coherency that’s probably required for the conversation Yeosang wants to have. 

Speaking of that. Why’d he come here? 

“Why’d you come here, dude?” 

Good question. 

Something passes over Yunho’s face, and then he’s going full-on into a Yeosang-cuffed-the-table level interrogation. “Did you and Min fight? Did he kick you out? Holy shit, what’d you do? And, like, no offense. I love you, Yeo! But I’m pretty sure if you’re having a lover’s quarrel, you know which side I’d pick-”

“We didn’t fight,” was that Yeosang who blurted that out? He feels like his head is filled with static. 

There’s a pause where Yunho just stares at him, nods slowly and lets go of his grip on Yeosang’s knees. “Then, uh… what’s up? Why were you knocking on my door in the middle of night like a man on the run?” 

It feels like he’s about to actually admit to a crime, like he’s done something to warrant the death penalty and Yunho is going to finally live his crime-fiction-come-to-life dream. He’s starting to think he hasn’t thought this plan even a quarter of the way through. 

Seeming to sense Yeosang’s growing hysteria, Yunho switches to sitting next to him on the couch and rubs his back. Jokes aside, the other seems genuinely worried and Yeosang would feel bad if he didn’t think the worry was pretty much warranted at this point. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. Yeosang examines the tag sewn into the edge of the blanket and chews on his bottom lip. Sudden courage swells in his chest.

Ripping the bandaid off is probably the way to go. 

“So, me and Mingi kissed.” 

Silence. 

Then, “Uh, Yeosang? I don’t know how to break it to you, but that’s something pretty common for boyfriends to do.” 

“Ha,” Yeosang snorts, “Yeah. Boyfriends.”

Yunho’s very obviously lost, looking moments away from tilting his head and lowering his metaphorical dog ears. Maybe Yeosang should rethink this.

He considers going home, considers facing Mingi who’s probably still in their living room wondering where the fuck Yeosang ran off to. 

Just rip the bandaid off. 

“About that,” Yeosang folds his hands together, “What if I told you… that we weren’t actually, uh. Ya know. Dating. Funny, right?” 

He gets no response, and he ponders whether he’s going to find empty space where Yunho’s head had been. Why? 

Because Yeosang’s pretty sure the other’s mind is blown to pieces by now. 

“What the actual, literal fuck? That’s my only question.” 

Yeosang nods, “That’s definitely a good one. I have no clue, man. No clue at all.” 

The hand at his back disappears, and then Yunho is slumping against the back of the couch and staring into space with his mouth screwed to one side. Finally, he nods to himself and sits up straight again. “You know what, that’s actually not surprising at all and it’s my fault for believing you in the first place.” 

“Hey-” 

Yunho glances at him, unimpressed. “C’mon, you two figuring your shit out? That fast and that easily? I was too optimistic. My bad, bro.” 

Yeosang isn’t sure whether he wants to strangle Yunho or himself. Probably both. 

“Anyways!” Yunho seems to have completely recovered from his shock (Yeosang really envies him at the moment). “So, uh, you and Min kissed? Are we going cliche here? B-rated romcom from the 90s style?” 

The question remains as to why Yeosang chose Yunho out of everyone to have the peak of his crisis in front of. (Except there’s not really any question, because he can’t tell Wooyoung without also telling San, Jongho would just laugh at him hysterically, and either Seonghwa or Hongjoong would fix him with the kind of disappointed frown that’d make him feel like a bad son.)

Regardless, Yeosang begs, “Can we rewind a little? We’re not going anywhere except maybe searching for apartment listings because I’m a dumbass and took what was meant to be a joke too far. He’s probably packing my stuff up as we speak since I made things so weird-”

“Hey, Yeo, pause. Do you… are you serious right now? You still haven’t had your magic movie epiphany and realized Mingi’s been-” Yunho cuts himself off, and oh _fuck no_ that’s not gonna fly. 

Yeosang turns his body to fully face the other, eyes probably wild with the cocktail of emotions swirling inside of him. “Mingi’s been _what_? Why are you guys so invested in us like this is some romance novel that every mom in the country has on on their nightstand?” 

Hands raised in surrender, Yunho remarks, “Hey, you’re the one talking about kissing him and running away like you killed someone in your living room.” 

“I did… my dignity,” and maybe that’s dramatic, but Yeosang can’t bring himself to care. He wishes Yunho would realize the severity of this situation and how Yeosang is genuinely contemplating moving to another country to save himself from a rejection he hadn’t even known he’d been avoiding. 

A heavy sigh weighs down Yunho’s body, arm flopping over his eyes like Yeosang is a toddler that won’t stop bugging him (an analogy Yunho better not voice or he might actually get strangled). Yeosang isn’t sure what to say anymore, just sits with his hands fisted in his lap and his brain leaking out of his ears. 

He barely registers Yunho standing up until he’s being pulled up to stand as well. Yunho traps him with his gaze, suddenly more serious than he thinks he’s ever seen coming from the other. Big hands fall onto his shoulders, and then, “I think you need to head home, Yeo. I know you guys are pretty much clueless, but I still have _some_ faith that you guys can figure this out without me leading you to the finish line. Your mouth was literally on his mouth. If you can’t make it the rest of the way from here, well, maybe me and the guys were wrong about everything.” 

Solemn silence. 

“I doubt that, though! We’re pretty smart. Now go! Communicate, with words and gestures and maybe more kissing, I believe in you!” 

And before Yeosang can blink he’s back outside and Yunho’s door is closing in his face. He stands there, eyes practically lasering through the door in hopes of ending Yunho once and for all. Seeing no other option, though, Yeosang figures it’s time to just bite the bullet and let Mingi kick him to the curb in person.

If he has to stay at San and Wooyoung’s (and put up with their gross PDA) until he can find somewhere else to live, well, so be it.

**\----**

Yeosang is holding his breath and closing the door to their apartment with excruciating slowness, and he thinks that maybe he’s gotten lucky for once. Maybe Mingi went to bed after wiping his mouth of Yeosang’s germs and they can postpone their fight until tomorrow morning. Maybe-

“Yeo?” 

Funny how Yeosang thought the universe would ever throw him a bone. 

Refusing to turn around, Yeosang curses the tremble in his voice when he replies, “Uh, yeah?”

Mingi sounds tired, “can we talk? Please?” 

Body suddenly heavy with exhaustion, Yeosang nods and makes his way toward the couch. He tries not to flinch when Mingi sits down on the opposite side, both of them leaning against their respective arms and _wow_ Yeosang doesn’t think he’s ever felt this awkward and tense in his life. He wrings his hands together and starts, “Listen, I’m really sor-”

“You can’t just do something like that and run away. You just- you just can’t.” 

Is Mingi angry? He sounds angry, and it just makes Yeosang shrink in on himself more. He sees a two year friendship collapsing before his eyes, countless days of teasing and laughter and comfort dissolving in the early morning chill sweeping through their apartment. 

He tries again, “I’m sorry, this wasn’t-”

“I’m just tired of the games, Yeo.” He can feel Mingi’s eyes digging into him even as he refuses to meet them with his own. Mingi doesn’t leave any room for him to respond, bulldozes past him, “This entire game we’ve been playing, I let it go. I kept going with it even though we should’ve stopped it from the _beginning_ because I knew my feelings were gonna get in the way. I figured maybe you just didn’t know, right? That I was just torturing myself because this is- this is the only way that we… but then you go and do _that_ and, god, Yeosang. I didn’t think you were that cruel-”

“Whoa. Hold on,” Yeosang’s heart is racing, and any hangups he'd had over eye contact are dead and gone. He thinks the weight in his gut is his body finally going into self-destruct mode because what the _fresh hell_ is Mingi talking about? “Me? Cruel? You’re the one about to throw me out because I couldn’t separate reality from fiction. My stupid brain went and thought _Hey, let’s just catch feelings for your best friend! Great plan!_ If anyone’s suffering right now, it’s me! So just- just yell at me and kick me out already, I can’t do-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. 

It takes him a second to become aware of the pressure against his lips, of the hands framing his face and pulling him closer. Panic morphs into a low heat simmering, burning up his insides. He can do nothing more than bring his hands up to clutch at strong forearms, vision going hazy and sparks bursting behind his eyelids. 

When Mingi eventually pulls away, his eyes wander across every inch of Yeosang’s face with a softness that makes Yeosang’s breath hitch. His hands are still framing Yeosang’s face, thumbs brushing over his ears absentmindedly. 

All Yeosang manages to get out is, “huh…”

Mingi breathes out slowly, “Yeah. Huh.” 

Yeosang lets his hands glide up Mingi’s arms to hook behind the other’s neck. He raises his chin, “I guess this is what Yunho meant when he was talking about a magic movie epiphany.” 

They fall into a shared, comforting silence (and Yeosang cannot express his gratitude at the weird silence’s defeat, at the sudden weight lifted from his shoulders knowing it’s done trailing behind their every interaction). It’s Mingi who breaks it, “So… about that breakup.” 

Yeosang’s eyes crinkle, fingers rubbing at the nape of Mingi’s neck, “We should probably postpone that some more. You know, for research purposes.” 

Another brush of their lips. Foreheads touching, gazes meeting beneath lowered lashes. 

“Right. For research purposes.”

**\----**

“What do you mean you knew?!”

San is too busy chewing on a Twizzler to respond (though his eyes do smile at Yeosang in a way that reveals his affiliation with the underworld). Wooyoung, who’s sat next to San and opposite Yeosang and Mingi, decides to spare Yeosang’s sanity and answer for his boyfriend, “Dude, you think we can’t tell when you’re lying? Why do you think we planned that double date in the first place?” 

Yeosang is seconds away from launching across the table in a bout of violence when he feels hands stop him. He glowers at Mingi in a way that, unfortunately, does not intimidate the other. Instead, it just makes Mingi giggle and poke at his puffed out cheeks. “Cute.” 

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles in spite of the flush that's certainly rising up his neck. He catches Wooyoung goggling them with a satisfied grin and remembers his outrage. “I can’t believe you guys just let us run around with our heads cut off like that.” 

Done with his Twizzler and reaching for another, San remarks, “We’ve been watching you guys do stuff like that since at _least_ last April. If anything, you should be thanking us for giving you that final push!”

Holding back the desire to grumble some more, Yeosang chooses instead to focus on the way Mingi’s fingers catch his under the table. He fights the urge to beam like a lovesick idiot and rubs his thumb over the back of Mingi’s hand. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

**Author's Note:**

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